


I Just…

by randi2204



Category: Voltron: Defender of the Universe, Voltron: Lion Voltron
Genre: Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-07-12
Updated: 2011-07-12
Packaged: 2017-10-21 07:12:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,329
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/222329
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/randi2204/pseuds/randi2204
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There's fighting... and there's <i>fighting</i> the day the team is ripped apart.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Just…

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: WEP owns Voltron. No money, etc., etc.
> 
> Notes: Inspired by "I Just Wanna Be Mad" by Terri Clark.

It had been a long night.  A long, long night.  Keith rubbed at his aching eyes and yawned, before returning to staring at the coffee maker.  After puzzling sleepily over it for a few minutes, he’d finally coaxed the unfamiliar Arusian device into working.  It gurgled and chirped as it brewed.  He sighed.

 

He hated fighting with Lance, he really did.  Not the least because it always seemed to end up this way.  Eyes bleary and scratchy from lack of sleep, mind sluggish, and of course, there’d be something early in the morning he’d have to be alert for, or something that would take a lot of concentration later in the day, when he’d be completely wiped out.  He knew there was something planned for today, he just couldn’t remember what.  Not for the first time, he cursed Lance’s uncanny knack for finding the wrong time to have an argument.

 

Sighing again, Keith shook his head.  _No, that’s not fair,_ he thought.  _I could always choose_ not _to fight with him... but he makes it so_ difficult _..._

 

He snorted, a ghost of a smile curving his lips. Lance’s contrary nature was part of the reason he loved him so.

 

Practice yesterday had not gone well.  Of course, Keith had reprimanded Lance for his recklessness, and of course, Pidge and Hunk had laughed, though Sven had said nothing.  And Lance had talked back, and Keith had slapped him down as hard as he dared.  It had earned him a gritted “Yes, _sir!_ ” over the com.  The Captain part of him had shrugged, taking it in stride, though Keith had cringed inwardly. 

 

Lance had been moody and silent throughout the afternoon and the evening meal, responding to no one’s attempt to engage him in conversation.  The Princess had taken one look at his sullen countenance at supper and turned immediately to Coran and Keith instead.  Keith had been irritated by the silent treatment, and had tried to let him know it by making a sharp remark about the way Lance left his clothes and belongings strewn all over their room.  It had sparked Lance’s temper, uncertain at the best of times, and that led to an hour of shouting and then six of silence.

 

As most of their arguments did, this one degenerated into a “discussion” of Keith’s command method and Lance’s irresponsible piloting, and words like “maverick” and “martinet” were hurled as hurtfully as possible.  After that useless hour, exasperated with the whole thing and growing hoarse, Keith had stormed into the bathroom and tried to escape by showering.  When he’d returned, skin wrinkled but much calmer, Lance had been feigning sleep on the far side of their bed, his back to Keith.  Keith had climbed into bed as well.  And he had lain there, with his back to Lance, listening to his lover’s rapid, uneven breaths, unable to sleep himself.

 

He knew he ought to be used to it by now; it had happened so often.  But every time they fought, it still tore up his heart.

 

Sometimes, he wondered if they were really fighting about his command style and Lance’s flying, or if it was just cover for a deeper problem.  He’d spent most of the night worrying about that very problem.  Had Lance...?

 

Keith started as the coffee maker gave a final long bubbling sound and hissed out the last bit of its brew.  He’d been so lost in thought that he hadn’t even noticed time passing.  Hoping to feel slightly more human, he poured a mug and sipped at it, making a face at the bitter aftertaste.  And _strong_ – he’d forgotten how the Arusians liked their coffee.  He managed to find milk and sweetener, and had diluted it to his satisfaction when a soft noise behind him made him look around, abandoning his cup on the counter.

 

Lance hesitated in the doorway.  As had Keith, he’d dressed before coming down, his leather jacket slung over one shoulder, though his hair still gleamed wetly and left water spots on the collar of his shirt.  His eyes were very blue in his pale face, and were ringed with dark circles that confessed he’d slept as little as Keith.

 

Keith’s eyes flickered quickly to the clock on the wall, then he converted the still-strange symbols to more familiar ones.  “You’re up early,” he commented quietly.

 

Lance nodded and stepped into the kitchen.  “Couldn’t sleep,” he replied in the same tone.  Pausing near Keith, he laid his jacket carefully on the counter, then looked up to meet Keith’s gaze.  “I’m sorry,” he murmured, reaching out to touch Keith’s arm.  “I was... I was mad at you, and I lost my temper and...” Tingeing red, he broke off and looked away.  “And you know how I am.”

 

Keith lightly touched Lance’s cheek.  “I know,” he responded, smiling faintly.  “I’m sorry, too, for yesterday.”

 

Lance nodded again, silently, and because he looked as lost and upset as Keith still felt, Keith wrapped his hand around the back of Lance’s neck and pulled him forward until their foreheads touched.  Lance’s breath blew softly against his cheek, reassuring him, and he massaged the taut muscles beneath his hand, trailed his fingers through the still-damp hair.  That small soothing contact was enough, and Lance put an arm around him in return.

 

They stood that way for several minutes, communicating only in small touches, until the sound of angry voices made them glance up, though they did not release each other.

 

As the voices came closer, accompanied by loud footsteps, Keith could make out Hunk’s cracked bass, and Sven’s lighter tones, though he couldn’t quite hear what they said.  Just as they reached the doorway, Sven paused and called out to Hunk in sharp-sounding Swedish.  Hunk took no notice, however, and continued to stalk down the corridor.  Still facing the door, Keith saw Sven scowl fiercely, then break into a run, following Hunk.

 

Lance had taken advantage of the distraction to rest his head on Keith’s shoulder, embracing him more completely.  “Sounds like we weren’t the only ones that had a fight last night,” he whispered. 

 

Keith shivered as the warm breath flowed over his ear and neck.  Absently, he let his hand slide down from Lance’s nape to stroke his back, then to rest on the prominent bone of his hip.  “Guess so,” he replied quietly.  “I wonder what Hunk did...”

 

Lance pulled back slightly to look at Keith, confused.  “What _Hunk_ did?  It sounded to me like _Sven_ was the one trying to...” He stopped as Keith shook his head.

 

“When Sven starts yelling in Swedish, it means he’s really angry.  I just think that Hunk did something to make him mad.”

 

Though he clearly longed to take the other position, Lance said nothing and laid his head back on Keith’s shoulder.  Keith had tried to make his words as conciliatory as possible for the same reason Lance kept silent; the pain of the previous night was still too fresh.

 

And to allay that pain, Lance was nuzzling his neck, stroking his side, nibbling at his ear.  Keith felt anticipation and desire uncoil in his belly, and closed his eyes.  _I wonder_ , he thought, _does he just fight with me to have make-up sex?_ and had to hide his smile.

 

Lance was growing bolder, his fingers exploring more intimately, and Keith caught his breath.  “Hey...” he protested weakly, but Lance ignored him, continued his caresses.  He tried again, more firmly this time.  “Lance, please, not here...”

 

“Then let’s go back to our room,” Lance whispered, not letting up one iota.

 

“Okay,” came his ready agreement.

 

Lance pulled back in surprise at that, staring at Keith, eyes wide.  Keith grinned happily at him, and slowly, as Lance recovered himself, he smiled in return.

 

When Lance took his hand, pulling him toward the door, he followed, unresisting.  Then Keith frowned.  Something was nagging at him, something...

 

Suddenly, he remembered, and groaned, stopping short.  Lance, about to bound up the stairs, spun around to look at him in worry.

 

“What?” His fingers tightened. “Are you okay?”

 

Keith slumped against the wall, still holding Lance’s hand, staring into his anxious face.  He knew what would happen as soon as he spoke, but he could find no other way to say it.  “Lance... we can’t.”

 

Immediately, storm clouds gathered in Lance’s expressive eyes.  He scowled, but before he could open his mouth, Keith went on.  “It’s my fault.  I completely forgot about it.  The Princess wants us to help her this morning.  She’s been wanting to show us off, and she wants to give out food to the people down in the ruins and the caves...”

 

Lance groaned in turn.  “Oh, no... You mean we have to be messenger boys again?”

 

“More than that.  We also have to go with her this afternoon and be bodyguards, too.  She figures more people will come to her if she’s not in the castle.”  Gently, he tugged on Lance’s hand, reeling him closer.  Lance did not resist as Keith embraced him and tucked his head onto his shoulder.  “I’m sorry,” he whispered.  “I really had forgotten all about it.”

 

Muffled against Keith’s shoulder, Lance mumbled, “Say that there’s some way to get out of this, _please_...”

 

He smiled at the pleading tone in spite of himself.  “I wish we could,” he breathed into Lance’s hair.  “Believe me, I wish.”  He tightened his arms, and felt Lance wrap his own around him in response.

 

“Do all of us really _have_ to go?  Couldn’t Sven...”

 

“We’ve all got to play messenger this morning, and we’ve all got to be there this afternoon.  I don’t like this any more than you do,” Keith replied softly.  “Nor will anyone else...” He dropped his arms, catching hold of Lance’s hand again, and headed back the way they had come.  “But we’ve still got to tell the others.  Come on.”

 

Lance pouted, but obediently allowed himself to be tugged along.  They had almost reached the castle’s interior maintenance bay when he asked, “Why are you bringing me?  It’s not like I have any authority over the others...”

 

Keith shuddered slightly.  “I think I caught the word for ‘kill’ in Sven’s rant this morning.  I’m hoping he thought twice about killing Hunk, but I may need you as a witness...”

 

***

Later that morning, on their way back from their fruitless trip to the caves, Lance commented, “I thought you were kidding...”

 

“About what?” Lance was walking in front of him, and Keith was indulging in a brief little fantasy... He had to shake himself out of it quickly when Lance turned to face him, stopping on the trail.

 

“I’ve never seen Sven so angry.  I thought he was going to rip your head off when it looked like you were going to tell him to go with Hunk.” Lance shivered, half in pretended fear, and half real.  “I think you’re lucky that Pidge came in looking for us.”

 

“Mmm, I know.”  Sven had given him his Look of Death, and he counted himself lucky that he’d been able to escape.  “Hopefully, he’s had enough time to calm down.  Maybe.”

 

“I hope so,” Lance said, turning back up the trail.  “I still wouldn’t want to be Hunk tonight for any money.”

 

***

The day had sped away, and it was late that afternoon.

 

The dust and dirt blown by the transport’s lift whipped viciously around Keith and Lance.  They stared at the ship, eyes empty, as it oriented and sped away, into the heavens.  Only when the last twinkle from the sun reflecting off its metal skin had disappeared did Keith turn to look at Lance.

 

One thought alone had dominated him, since he and Lance had raced to this empty plaza.  _It could have been Lance._   It could have been Lance, battered by the ro-beast’s strength, gouged by its claws, could have been Lance, bloodied and beaten and alone, lying near death in that shuttle, not Sven.

 

And Keith could hardly find it in himself to feel any sorrow for Sven, because of the overwhelming relief that it _hadn’t_ been Lance.

 

Without thinking, only feeling, he caught Lance in a hard embrace, as Lance half turned to face him.

 

Lance was startled by the sudden action.  “Ke-Keith?  Are you...”

 

Keith began trembling violently as the reaction set in.  He buried his face in Lance’s neck, inhaling the dust that had caught in his hair, the smell of sweat, but more importantly, that scent that was _Lance._   “All I could think,” he whispered brokenly, “all I could think, when we found Sven...  oh, God, don’t ever... _please_ don’t ever do that to me again...” He clutched Lance more closely, needing the comfort of his body, the sound of his heart beating strong beneath his ear.  He scrabbled at the back of Lance’s leather jacket, trying to satisfy his need to know, to feel with his own shaking hands, that Lance was truly alive.  Finally, he snaked his hands inside, and was able to feel the heat rising from Lance’s body, curling his fingers into the back of his lover’s perspiration-damp shirt.  Lance began to gently stroke his hair, murmuring something to calm him, allowing him to do whatever he needed. 

 

But it wasn’t until Keith realized that Lance was saying, “I won’t, I promise,” that he really began to relax.

 

Silently, Keith started to make a litany of promises to himself as well.  They were promises he knew he might not be able to keep, but, prompted by this brush with death, he would try.  _I won’t yell, I won’t get mad, I won’t fight..._ And suddenly, it felt like all the breath had been knocked out of him, all of the reassurance he’d gained from Lance’s arms disappearing.

 

They – _he_ –  still had to tell Hunk what had happened.  Hunk, Pidge and the Princess hadn’t gotten back to the castle when he’d called Coran for the shuttle.  Would Coran have told them by now?

 

But Hagar and her ro-beast were still on the loose.  They’d have to take care of her first, and save their own personal griefs for later.

 

The wind started to pick up, chill against them as it caused dust devils to dance.  Keith shivered again, though it had nothing to do with the cool air.  He was imagining Hunk’s reaction...

 

… imagining what his own reaction might have been, had it been Lance instead...

 

Instinctively, he held Lance tighter, gasping.

 

“Hey, I’m right here,” Lance said softly, still running his fingers over Keith’s hair and down his back.  “It’s all right.” 

 

They stood in silence for another few minutes, until Keith was able to release his near-deathgrip on Lance.  Taking a deep breath, he raised his head and smiled weakly.  “I’m sorry,” he offered quietly, sliding his hands slowly from beneath Lance’s jacket

 

Lance returned his smile, and tucked a flyaway strand of dark hair back behind his ear.  “It’s all right,” he repeated.

 

“I’m ready now...” But he still needed to know Lance was with him, that this wasn’t just a dream, so he grabbed the other’s hand and started running.  Lance stumbled into step behind him and they raced back to the castle.

 

***

Lance slept deeply, exhausted.  His breaths puffed softly against Keith’s neck, his head pillowed on Keith’s shoulder.  Keith lay awake, staring at the darkened ceiling, mind awhirl with thoughts that would not settle.  Though he was as desperately tired as Lance, he could not sleep.

 

Hunk’s face, pale, stunned, kept playing before his eyes whenever he closed them.

 

When he and Lance had arrived back, Coran had already broken the news to the others, and Castle Control was empty but for him.  They’d found Pidge working furiously on a small electronic device, wiping his eyes with the back of one hand when they were too blurry with tears to see the tiny circuits.  He called Sven stupid for getting hurt, but then had buried his face against Keith and sobbed.

 

The Princess and Hunk had been together in the dining room, of all places.  Hunk had been slumped in one of the chairs, head resting on his arms on the table, while Allura sat next to him, one hand on his shoulder.  She was murmuring something to him, trying to comfort him, when they had entered.  She had looked up, her eyes shining with tears, though Hunk did not move.

 

“Hunk... I’m sorry,” Keith said quietly.  He looked at Lance, silently begging him not to say anything, and for once, Lance obeyed.

 

Hunk said nothing.  From behind, it had seemed he was staring at the opposite wall.  Then, with a start, Keith had realized that Hunk was staring at the place at which Sven normally sat when they took their evening meal with the Princess.

 

When the silence had become unbearable, Keith tried again.  “I wish we could have brought him back here, but... but his injuries were too severe...” He trailed off as Hunk lifted his head slightly.

 

“Do you know what we fought about last night?” Hunk had asked in a conversational, if slightly distracted, tone.

 

Surprised, Keith had glanced at Lance, just as startled.  His first thought, instantly shaming him, was that he couldn’t afford to have Hunk snap on him, not when Hagar and her beast were still about.  “Uh... no.”

 

“It was so stupid...” For a moment, Hunk’s voice had caught, and it had seemed he might begin to weep, but he took a deep breath and continued on.  “So stupid, and if I had just let it go... but he said you were right, yesterday, and I said you were wrong, and... and he knows that I hate it when gets all superior on me, so he did, and then I couldn’t let it go... .”  He had stopped, burying his face in his arms again.

 

“Hunk...” Lance had stepped forward, his face stricken.  In the same moment, Keith understood what Hunk’s tortured words meant, that he and Lance had caused the others’ argument as well as their own.

 

His voice muffled, Hunk had said, “Then this morning, he went all regulation on me, said that our relationship was against the rules, and yours, and that none of us should be together...  God, that hurt.  It hurt so much I told him that I couldn’t understand what I saw in him, anyway, and he could leave if he wanted to.”  Suddenly, he straightened and turned around, his face twisted in grief.  “He... I think he wanted to apologize then, but I was so upset I wouldn’t let him, and I walked away.  That’s when he started shouting in Swedish.  You know what he said?” The tears had finally come then, trickling slowly down his broad face.  “He said, ‘So, you want me to just remove myself from your life?  Should I just die for you?’”

 

Keith had stepped forward, grasping Hunk’s shoulder.  “He’s not dead, Hunk,” he’d said, though he could feel his eyes watering.  “He’ll be okay...”

 

“Close enough, Keith,” Hunk had whispered, looking away.  “Please, guys, Princess, just leave me alone.”  He had climbed to his feet and shambled out, shoulders hunched like he was broken inside.

 

Keith closed his eyes against the memory.  A few minutes later, they’d had to fight against Hagar’s ro-beast.  They’d defeated it, but it was a hollow victory.

 

Lance shifted against him briefly, then stilled, smiling in the darkness.  Keith brushed his lips against Lance’s brow.

 

“We’re not gonna end up like that,” he vowed softly.  “If I have to drag you out of the control room, even if you and I launch late every time, we are _not_ going to go fight if I don’t tell you that I love you.”

 

Lance stirred again at his emphatic words.  “Love you, too,” he breathed drowsily, then immediately returned to slumber.

 

At last, Keith closed his eyes, smiling faintly.  That was one promise he knew he would keep.

 

***

October 17, 2002


End file.
